Poverty And Misrule – Hasmukh Amathalal

Wolves are same all over
You need to think it over
Liberty and freedom
Go together seldom

Under the same name
People gang up to come
In power and try to rule
Rest all people watch them as fool

Poor shall suffer more
As restrictions shall not be over
Their freedom of expression shall remain on paper
They will remain free but facing starvation and hunger

Africa has natural sources in abundance
Now you have got chance
Rise above pretty considerations
And exert pressure as an independent nation

If no resistance is offered
Or awareness is created
You shall be kept under control
To face poverty and misrule

Poverty Is Slavery – Abekah Emmanuel

It may be buried memories from my past
Though still fresh and striking to my heart
How I wish its effects ceases to last
But anytime it flashes my mind, it makes me sad.

I stopped writing about it few months ago
For it irritates the Jones and saddens the slaves
But whenever I spend time alone
I can’t help it but to write on my slate.

Haven long been a vibrant slave myself
I have seen, felt and lived in slavery
As it drags multitudes to their premature graves
And causes the deceived, lots of misery.

I remember how it had laid a peasant farmer
To his peaceful rest, because he had a cut
But was not able to seek the help of the doctor,
It is a pity, I feel the pains, it pierces my heart.

I remember my mum, cooking in that dark kitchen,
Fanning the tripod stand with her mouth
Tears dripping from her eyes, what a poor maiden!
I feel her pains too, but I look into the future and laugh.

I also remember how dad returns from the farm, his economy
Where he had lived most of his life, he is very exhausted
But mummy still consoles him, what a happy colony!
Butter and sugar, have in their lives, never tasted.

But they always have one thing, that never perishes,
Although, they have been in slavery for many years
They have hope and dream of a new dawn of riches
Where poverty shall no more be their portion.

The Lady Poverty – Evelyn Underhill

I met her on the Umbrian hills,
Her hair unbound, her feet unshod:
As one whom secret glory fills
She walked, alone with God.

I met her in the city street:
Oh, changed was all her aspect then!
With heavy eyes and weary feet
She walked alone, with men.

Poverty – Konjit Berhane

The poor
The homeless
The mother
The father
The son
The daughter
One by one
Died of hunger

The aunt
The uncle
The niece
The cousin
Followed them later

Oh! Poverty
Killing all the makers of history
Will you and I live to see
Poverty being history?

Poverty – Thomas Traherne

As in the house I sate,
Alone and desolate,
No creature but the fire and I,
The chimney and the stool, I lift mine eye
Up to the wall,
And in the silent hall,
Saw nothing mine
But some few cups and dishes shine,
The table and the wooden stools
Where people used to dine;
A painted cloth there was,
Wherein some ancient story wrought
A little entertained my thought,
Which light discovered through the glass.

I wondered much to see
That all my wealth should be
Confined in such a little room,
Yet hope for more I scarcely durst presume.
It grieved me sore
That such a scanty store
Should be my all;
For I forgot my ease and health,
Nor did I think of hands or eyes,
Nor soul nor body prize;
I neither thought the sun,
Nor moon, nor stars, nor people mine,
Though they did round about me shine;
And therefore was I quite undone.

Some greater things, I thought,
Must needs for me be wrought,
Which till my craving mind could see
I ever should lament my poverty;
I fain would have
Whatever bounty gave,
Nor could there be
Without or love or deity;
For should not he be infinite
Whose hand created me?
Ten thousand absent things
Did vex my poor and wanting mind,
Which, till I be no longer blind,
Let me not see the King of kings.

His love must surely be
Rich, infinite, and free;
Nor can he be thought a God
Of grace and power, that fills not his abode,
His holy court,
In kind and liberal sort;
Joys and pleasures,
Plenty of jewels, goods, and treasures,
To enrich the poor, cheer the forlorn,
His palace must adorn,
And given all to me;
For till his works my wealth became,
No love or peace did me inflame:
But now I have a Deity.

Baby Doll – Jenna Ellis

My mother gave me a baby doll,
And said it was my own to keep,
But something is wrong with this doll,
Because it ”baahs” like a sheep,
I told my mother what it”s doing,
And she said not to worry,
Then I went back up to my room,
And my baby doll was furry,
I looked at it closely,
And what comes to my surprise,
The baby doll, is not a baby doll no more,
It”s a sheep with kitty eyes.
The next day my dad came home with a doll,
He said it is mine to keep,
Something was wrong with this doll,
It didnt look the same, As all the other dolls I see,
Because it”s cry was pretty lame,
And it had no clothes to wear,
But I put it underneath my bed,
and I still think it”s under there.

My Baby – Shastina McElmurry

my baby is in heaven above.
i knew god will give him lots of love.
god took my baby from me.
i cried a deep blue sea.
he can never be replaced.
the truth might as well be faced.
His name was sox
he looked so cute in his box.
he was my best friend
he was there tell the end
my dog was the night and day of my life.
i still cry in the night
i just need some light.

Baby – Viola Pinkosky

When you were created, I knew I had found it.
The angel face, and beauty all around it.
Your heart is a creation of wonder.
And, how you came to be, I still ponder.

But, Lilly, you are the joy of my day.
A miracle, in each and every way.
With a beautiful light to your eyes,
like your mother’s: stars in the skies.

Like the flower you are named,
may you never be tamed.
Your life is too free.

The Sisters – Terence Winch

One sister is leaving for Sweden.
Two sisters are arguing in the living room
while a third sister makes furtive
phone calls from the bathroom.
Another sister has died.

The sisters are all beautiful.
They knit, they cook, they write
books about the meaning
of life. They always look
good, even on a bad day.

Even the word sister is
insistent. Some sisters live
in a convent, some lie naked
on a bed in a dark room,
waiting for a caress.
They dress and undress
twenty times a day.

If I had a wish it would be
to have been there on the day
my sisters caught a giant fish
in Florida, and afterwards
began beautiful lives of
mystery in the female
universe, where the laws
of science are known to sway.

My Work – Terence Winch

In my work, at any given point,
the great issues of identity politics
and dialectical absolutism assume
a tight coherence, a profoundly
threatening total awareness
by which I seek to mediate
the conflict between meaning
and the extremes of deconstruction.

I never strike a false note
I believe in savvy artistic
incandescence as a constitutive
enhancement of racy sexuality,
all as a way to examine the
necessity of self-love.

It’s always dangerous to underestimate
my work. I insult the intellectual
dignity of the French. They arrive
in my brightly colored landscape
right after quitting time only to discover
an empty stage set in which all the clueless
actors have wandered off to an installation
of obsolete Marxist sloganeering.

Yeats was deeply immersed in mythology
and so am I. T. S. Eliot preferred Dante
to Shakespeare, but I don’t. Charles Bernstein
loves the way my sentences decompose.
John Ashbery will read my work only
while naked. Everything I do is the pure
output of brains, speed, and skill.

A couple of weeks ago, I digested
Aristotle. I found him to be electrifyingly
ahistorical, and he has now been subsumed
into my work. I have open-ended stratagems
when it comes to the Germans, particularly
Goethe and Kant. They live now in my
imagination. I go way beyond alienation
into a new synthesis of desire and content.

My work stands for something invisible,
something inner. I attempt to explain
the risk of appearing. Foucault would know
how well my work succeeds in revealing
the discourse between power and structure.
When you read my work, you may think
“simile” and “metaphor,” but what you really
get is the storm, the dark mansion, the servant
girl standing alone in Columbus Circle.

Triumph and loss permeate my work.
People should try to pick up on that.
My technical virtuosity is unrivaled.
Don’t talk to me about subject matter.
My work takes “narrative” and turns
it into whatever happened. In my work,
“story” becomes language contemplating
its own articulation in a field of gesture.

There is a higher reality at play in my work.
Sacred memories resonate with perceptual
knowledge of the body as primal text. Yet
my work is never subservient to the dominant
ideology. It circulates warmly and freely
through all variable channels. My work
is like the furniture you so much want to
sink into, but must wait as it wends its way
from distant points in a giant moving truck
screeching across the country
to your new home.

Fishbowl  – Terence Winch

I can’t think of anything else
to talk with you about. We have
discussed our jobs, our daily commute,
the foods we like and don’t like.
You have ordered wine. I get a Pepsi.
People have died. We acknowledge that.
We’re here and they’re not. You get up
early. I get up late. I want to tell you
that I see your special dead person still,
mostly in the subway. She was wonderful.
Your new girlfriend is also a gem. How is
it possible to love people who no longer
exist? But they’re everywhere, coming
and going in the world of the dead
as though they haven’t torn us in pieces
with their absence. They observe us
intently. We are fish in a fishbowl to them.
They watch from afar while we struggle to swim.

Morning Prayers – Terence Winch

Old people cry too much.
They walk in the morning
to the railway station.
Their hearts are breaking.

You can be old on the inside
or old on the outside.
Your heart can beat like
the heart of a young dog.

The railway has been closed
for years. The tracks end
in the middle of nowhere.
Old people get the senior discount.

When God was young our hearts
were on fire with our love
for him. He too is now an idiot
and we scorn his heartless ways.

My Beloved – Rabia Al Basri

My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
For His love I can find no substitute,
And His love is the test for me among mortal beings,
Whenever His Beauty I may contemplate,
He is my “mihrab”, towards Him is my “qiblah”
If I die of love, before completing satisfaction,
Alas, for my anxiety in the world, alas for my distress,
O Healer (of souls) the heart feeds upon its desire,
The striving after union with Thee has healed my soul,
O my Joy and my Life abidingly,
You were the source of my life and from Thee also came my ecstasy.
I have separated myself from all created beings,
My hope is for union with Thee, for that is the goal of my desire

My God And My Lord – Rabia Al Basri

Eyes are at rest, the stars are setting.
Hushed are the stirrings of birds in their nests,
Of monsters in the ocean.

You are the Just who knows no change,
The Balance that can never swerve,
The Eternal which never passes away.

The doors of Kings are bolted now and guarded by soldiers.
Your Door is open to all who call upon You.

My Lord,
Each love is now alone with his beloved.
And I am alone with You.

My Greatest Need Is You – Rabia Al Basri

Your hope in my heart is the rarest treasure
Your Name on my tongue is the sweetest word
My choicest hours
Are the hours I spend with You —
O Allah, I can’t live in this world
Without remembering You–
How can I endure the next world
Without seeing Your face?
I am a stranger in Your country
And lonely among Your worshippers:
This is the substance of my complaint.

Reality – Rabia Al Basri

In love, nothing exists between heart and heart.
Speech is born out of longing,
True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
the one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?

The Holy Water – Rabia Al Basri

No one lives outside the walls of this sacred place, existence.
The holy water, I need it upon my eyes: it is you, dear, you – each form.

What mother would lose her infant – and we are that to God,
never lost from His gaze are we? Every cry of the heart
is attended by light’s own arms.

You cannot wander anywhere that will not aid you.
Anything you can touch – God brought it into
the classroom of your mind.

Differences exist, but not in the city of love.
Thus my vows and yours, I know they are the same.

I have just peeled the skin from the potato
and you are still contemplating its worth,
sweetheart; indeed there are wonderful nutrients in all,
for God made everything.

You joined our community at birth.
With your Father being who He is, what do the
world’s scales know of your precious value.
The priest and the prostitute – they weigh the same before the Son’s
immaculate being,
but who can bear that truth and freedom,
so a wise man adulterated the
scriptures;
every wise man knows this.

My soul’s face has revealed its beauty to me;
why was it shy so long, didn’t it know how this made me suffer
and weep?

A different game He plays with His close ones.
God tells us truths you would not believe,
for most everyone needs to limit His compassion; concepts of
right and wrong preserve the golden seed
until one of God’s friends comes along and tends your body
like a divine bride.

The Holy sent out a surveyor to find the limits of its compassion
and being.
God knows a divine frustration whenever He acts like that,
for the Infinite has
no walls.

Why not tease Him about this?
Why not accept the freedom of what it means
for our Lord to see us
as Himself.

So magnificently sovereign is our Lover; never say,
‘On the other side of this river a different King rules.”
For how could that be true – for nothing can oppose Infinite strength.

No one lives outside the walls of this sacred place, existence.

The holy water my soul’s brow needs is unity.
Love opened my eye and I was cleansed
by the purity of each
form.

With My Beloved – Rabia Al Basri

With my Beloved I alone have been,
When secrets tenderer than evening airs
Passed, and the Vision blest
Was granted to my prayers,
That crowned me, else obscure, with endless fame;
The while amazed between
His Beauty and His Majesty
I stood in silent ecstasy
Revealing that which o’er my spirit went and came.
Lo, in His face commingled
Is every charm and grace;
The whole of Beauty singled
Into a perfect face
Beholding Him would cry,
‘There is no God but He, and He is the most High.’

Childhood Dreams Of Flight – Linda Winchell

When I was very little
I use to dream that I could fly.
I’d put some rubber bans around my shoes
leaped up and I was flying in the sky!

Flying over hill and dale
looking down on those I knew.
They would look up at me in wonder
all wondering how I flew.

I’m older now and don’t seem to dream that way
was that only for that time?
How complex the human brain can be
all those thoughts trapped in our minds.

I dream today, that is for certain
but some I can’t recall.
And then there are days, they all go away
before I awake I’ve lost them all.

Where do these dreams originate?
Are they coming from another place and time?
Or are they just the brains way of escaping
the daily stresses of my mind?

For now I’ll just have to sleep and dream
dream what my mind has in store.
But I hope one day, Childhood dreams of flight
of jumping high in the sky to sore!

Childhood – Victor Osorio

I miss my old home
It had a broken mirror
I couldn’t see my face
I miss my childhood
It had a broken memory
It was a lonely place
But it felt comforting
We have one childhood
Whether it’s good or bad
We remember those days
and all the fun we had
But it could also be ugly
The way it was for me
I was picked on alot
They made fun of me
Now I’m getting older
But, I’m still a child
This world gets colder
For each and every child.

Childhood – Rainer Maria Rilke

It would be good to give much thought, before
you try to find words for something so lost,
for those long childhood afternoons you knew
that vanished so completely -and why?

We’re still reminded-: sometimes by a rain,
but we can no longer say what it means;
life was never again so filled with meeting,
with reunion and with passing on

as back then, when nothing happened to us
except what happens to things and creatures:
we lived their world as something human,
and became filled to the brim with figures.

And became as lonely as a sheperd
and as overburdened by vast distances,
and summoned and stirred as from far away,
and slowly, like a long new thread,
introduced into that picture-sequence
where now having to go on bewilders us.

Nepali Katha – Ghodchadhi

नयाँ सरकार बनेपछि गाउँ पुग्ने इच्छा, उत्सुकता र आवश्यकताबोध गरेर एक जना पत्रकार सहरबाट गाउँतिर लाग्यो । गाडीबाट झरेपछि उसले एक जना गाउँलेलाई पनि साथमा लियो ।

दिनभरिको हिँडाइपछि गोधुलीमा ऊ एउटा भञ्झ्याङ अर्थात् नेटोमा पुग्यो । चौतारी थियो, पसिना ओभाउन , सुस्ताउन चाह्यो । त्यति नै बेला दुई जना कुद्दै र पसिना पनि पुछ्दै स्याँस्याँ र फ्याँफ्याँ गर्दै त्यतैतिर आउँदै थिए । पत्रकार अलि डराए जस्तो पनि भयो- बन्दुक बोकेका ती दुई जना देखेर । उसले पुलुक्क हेर्‍यो गाउँलेतिर ।

“सेनाका मान्छे हुन्”- गाउँलेले विश्वस्त पार्‍यो ।

ती दुई बन्दुकधारीले पनि चौतारामा बस्नेहरूलाई पुलुक्क हेरे र फेरि कुदे ।

पत्रकार र गाउँले पनि ओरालो लागे । दस मिनेट तल जति गाउँ थियो । गाउँको मुखमै पुगे । त्यहाँ पनि बन्दुक बोकेको एउटा मान्छे कुद्दै अघिअघि आउँदै थियो र अलिकति पर चार पाँच जना घोडचढीहरू त्यतै आउँदै थिए । उनीहरू तल झर्दै गए, घोडचढीहरूसितको दूरी कम हुँदै गयो । पत्रकारमा केही मात्रामा भय पनि थियो र कौतुहलता पनि । घोडचढी र पत्रकारबीचको दूरी झन् कम भयो ।

बन्दुक बोकेर अघिअघि कुदेको मान्छेले आफ्नो गति बढायो ।

सबैभन्दा अगाडि कालो घोडा थियो । यस्यल्आर् बोकेको सेनाको मान्छे त्यहाँ थियो । त्यसपछि सेतो घोडा थियो, युवा कामरेड त्यसमा थियो । त्यसपछि थियो- रातो घोडा । त्यसमा केही अग्लो, मोटो, भुँडीवाल, खाइलाग्दो, जीउडाल र अनुहार परेको मान्छे चढेको थियो, त्यसको पछाडि खैरो घोडा थियो । त्यसमा एक जना अधबैंसे थियो र घोडाहरूको पछाडि यस्एल्आर बोकेका दुई जना , घोडालाई पछ्याउँदै कुद्दै थिए ।

घोडाहरू एउटा घरको आँगनबाट धुलो उडाउँदै कुदे, मान्छेलाई मिच्तै कुदे । कुखुराका चल्लाहरू यताउति कुदे, केटाकेटी छेउ-किनारा लागे । एक जना बूढीआमै घरको पिँढीमा बसेकी थिइन्, डरले भित्र कुदिन् । जान्न मन लाग्यो र सोधिन् ।

“फेरि बडाहाकिमहरू आउन थाले कि क्या हो गाउँमा ?”

”कस्तो नचिन्नु भा’को हाम्रा नयाँ मन्त्री होइनन्” – नातिनीले उत्तर दिई ।

उनले हावामा हात हल्लाइन्, हात हल्लाइको भाव अनुहारमा झल्कियो ।

त्यसको लगत्तैजसो एक जना गाउँलेले डोकोमा, मोर्चामा घाइते भएर दुवै खुट्टा गुमाएको जनमुक्ति सेनालाई बोकेर ल्याउँदै थियो ।

पत्रकारले पछाडि फर्केर हेर्‍यो । घोडचढीहरू पर पुगिसकेका थिए । बाटोमा धुलो उडेर कुइरिमन्डल भएको थियो ।

घाइतेलाई बोक्ने गाउँलेले भिन्नै अनुहारका साथ घोडचढीहरूलाई हेर्‍यो र लामो सास फेर्‍यो ।

पत्रकारको मुखबाट अनायास लामो उच्छवास निस्कियो ।

हिमालको चुचुरोबाट बाफ निस्किरहेको थियो ।

Nepali Katha – Dashain Ra Abodh Fuchhe

दशैं आउँने बेलाको मौसम साँच्चीकै रमाईलो हुन्छ । भौगोलिक हिसाबले पनि नेपालमा दशैं मान्नकै लागि प्रकृतिले सबै कुरा जुराई दिएको हो कि जस्तो लाग्छ । तर…. तर…. त्यहींका धेरै जसो जनताका लागि प्रत्यक बर्ष दशैं, दशैं हैन दशा बन्ने गरेको छ ।

फुच्चे ! पोहर, परारतिर त सानै भएकोले हामी गरिब छौ भन्ने थाहा पनि थिएन र उस्लाई के दशैं, के तिहार मतलब पनि थिएन । आमाको बाबुले अटम भर्दै आएको फुच्चेले यो पालीदेखि आमालाई कल्पनै नगरेका प्रश्नहरू एक पछि अर्को गर्दै सोध्न थालेको छ । पुच्चेले अरु सबै सोधे पनि हाम्रो बाबा खोई ? भनेर नसोधे हुँदो हो भन्ने उसको आमालाई ठूलो जलतराश थियो अर्थात चिन्ता लागिरहेको थियो ।

सुख र खुसी कुन चराको नाम हो ? भन्ने थाहा नै नभएको फुच्चेकी आमाले दशैं र तिहार त झन मान्नै बिर्सेकी थिई । बिहान के खाउँ, बेलुकी के खाउँ भईरहने फुच्चेकी आमा साहुहरूको खेतबारीमा काम नजुरेको दिन त व्रत बसेर दिन काट्दै आएकी थिई । अब त छोरोलाई पनि त्यो गुन्युको भोटो सानो हुदै आएको थियो । फुच्चेलाई गतिलो कमिज र जाँघेको जोह गर्न नपाउँदै दशैं नजिकिएको मार फुच्चेकी आमालाई पर्नु परेको थियो ।

फुच्चे गर्भमा छ भन्ने थाहै नपाई बिदेश लागेका दिलको मालिक आज सम्म अत्तो पत्तो छैन । बेजातीसँग बिहे गरिस भनेर न माईतीले हेरे, न घरकाले स्वीकारे । न घरकी न घाटकी भएको बेला झन गाउँबाटै निकाला गरियो । गाउँ-गाउँतिर डुल्दै जाँदा गाई भैसीको शरणमा एउटा साहुको गोठमा ओट लागेकी थिई । एकातिर भुँडीमा पापको डल्लो हुर्कदै थियो । छोरी जन्मियोस भन्ने कामना गर्दा गदै दुर्भाग्य बस भैंसी गोठमा छोरोको जन्म भयो । न्वारन नै नभएको छोरोको नाम वरपरका सबैले ए…फुच्चे भनेर बोलाउन थाले । आफू पनि छाती माथी ढुंगा राखी आफ्नो मुटुमा फलेको छोरालाई फुच्चे भनेर बोलाउन बाध्य हुन्थी ।

अब त फुच्चेले पनि दशैंको बेला अरुको आमाले घर, आगन र चौका सिंगार पटार गरेको देख्न थाल्यो । अरुको बाबाले “भ्या….भ्या …” गर्दै खसी ल्याएको पनि सुन्यो । अनि त्यस्तै अरुको बाबा बिदेशबाट बाकस टल्काउदै चरप्पै चाचा, पापा ल्याएको बुझ्यो । उसका सबै दौंतारीहरूले नयाँ-नयाँ लुगा लगाएको र मिठा-मिठा खाएको महसुस गर्न थाल्यो । त्यसैले होला अरुको लैलैमा फुच्चे पनि अन्यासै खुसी हुँदै थियो । अवश्य फुच्चेको अबोध मानस्पातलभरि अरुको घरमा जस्तै आफ्नो घरमा पनि धुमधामका साथ दशै भित्रिने आशा गरेको थियो । तर फुच्चेको आशा निराशामा परिणत हुँदै थियो । ऊ आमालाई प्रश्नमाथि प्रश्न थुपार्दै थियो । गर्दा गर्दा उस्का अबोध धेरै जिज्ञासाहरू उस्को आमाको मौन र अमिलो अनुहार अनि बलिनधारा आँशुसँगै नाजवाफमै टुङ्गिन बाध्य भएको थियो । बिचरा ! अबोध फुच्चेको के दोष ????

 

Nepali Katha – Nari Akarshan

“होस्टेलको कोठा हो यो फिल्महल होइन बुझिस्” होस्टेलका वार्डेन सरले भित्तामा टासिएका चलचित्रका उभिनेत्रीका तस्विरहरू तर्फ लक्षित गर्दै छ कक्षामा तेस्रोपल्ट फेल भएको झ्वाँकमा शिशिरलाइ थर्काए । भित्तामा, किताबमा, कापिका हरेक ठाउँमा उहि नायिकाको फोटो । शिशिरको डायरीमा, पर्समा, ज्याकेटमा वा रूमालमा हरेक ठाउँमा उनै नायिकाको फोटो भेटे पछि वार्डेन सरलाइ उसको च्यावनप्रासे चाला देखेर झ्वाँक चल्नु पनि स्वाभाबिक थियो । एक चड्कन हानेर वार्डेन सर एक्लै भुतभुताए “छ कक्षा पास भाछैन के सारो बैश अाको हँ यो टिपुरे केटालाइ” । अाइन्दा “यस्तो हरकत” कायम रहे स्कुलबाट निकाल्ने धम्की पनि दिए । उसको ति नायिका प्रतिको लगाव एक इन्च पनि घटेको देखिएन, पढाइ भने दिन प्रतिदिन खस्किदो थियो ।
दश एघार बर्षको फुच्चै ब्यावसायिक फिल्मकी एउटी नायिका प्रतिको यो लगाबको खवर पत्रिकाको “निकै मनोरञ्जक समाचार” बन्यो, बजारको यस समाचारलाइ “शालीन (?)” गृहिणीहरूले टिप्पणी गरे “अचेलका बच्चा उम्रिदै तिनपात !”। समाजका जेठा बाठाहरू भने अहिलेका केटाकेटीहरूलाइ “अस्लील चलचित्रले बिगारेको” निस्कर्षमा पुगे । “केटी भने पछि केटाहरूको जातै यस्तो” क्याम्पस पढ्ने युवतिहरूले अाफ्नो थेसीस अगाडी सारे । “पाठ-यपुस्तकमा नैतिक शिक्षाको कमी भएको” ठोकुवा गरे भरखर नयाँ पार्टीमा पसेर अाफ्नै पुरानो राजावादी पार्टीलाइ सराप्दै हिड्ने “क्रान्तिकारी” नेताले ।

मनोचिकित्सकको टोलीले गम्भिर अध्ययन पछि “शिशिरकी दिबङ्गत अामाको अनुहार उक्त नायिका सङ्ग मिल्ने हुनाले नायिका प्रति यस्तो लगाव देखिएको” निस्कर्ष निकाल्यो ।

Nepali Katha – Ganatantra Ko Sanskirti

लालपुरमा संविधान सभाको परिणामले गणतन्त्र घोषणा भयो । देशबाट सामन्तवाद अन्त भएको विधिवत घोषणा भयो । दरवारको वारेमा जीवनभरि अध्ययन गर्दागर्दै दशकौं विताएको बलबहादुर अत्यन्त उत्साहित भयो । जीवनभर दरवारको अपमान, अत्याचार र भेदभावले आजित भएको बलबहादुरले साँचो अर्थमा मुक्तिको अनुभव गर्‍यो ।

लालपुरको भू.पु. राजा निर्वासित भएर पलाएन भईसकेका थिए । अफ्रिकी महादेशको एउटा टापु नै किनेर बसेको खबर बलबहादुरले पनि पढेको थियो । बलबहादुर गणतन्त्र प्राप्तीको आन्दोलनमा अग्रणी मोर्चामा उभिएको आन्दोलनकारी पनि थियो । दरवारकै सेरोफेरोमा अध्ययन केन्द्रीत गर्ने व्यक्ति पनि यसरी गणतन्त्रको आन्दोलनमा सकृय भएर जेल नेल खेपेकाले गणतन्त्र प्राप्ती पछि उसलाई एकदुई सभामा दोसल्ला पनि ओडाइएको थियो । बलबहादुरलाई प्राप्त सम्मान र उत्प्रेरणाले प्रखर गणतान्त्रिक पनि बनाएको हो ।

वैदेशिक भ्रमणको सिलसिलामा अफ्रिका जाँदा भू.पु. राजालाई भेटेर बलबहादुरले आफ्नो अपमानको बद्ला लिने निधो गर्‍यो -“मैले पनि अब त्यस भू.पु.राजालाई “तँ” भनेर सम्बोधन गर्छु । त्यसले मलाई जीवनभर तँ भन्यो, मैले अपमान सहनु पर्‍यो । म अव अवश्य वदला लिन्छु ” ।

रेल, पानीजहाज चढेर सयौं किलोमिटर परको टापुसम्म पुग्यो । टापुमा भव्य दरवार थियो । दरवारको गेटमा बसेको पालेलाई आफू लालपुर भन्ने देशबाट आएको र आफू सोही भु.पु.राजाको नजिकको भएको बतायो । गेटको पालेले भित्र “बिन्ति” चढायो । प्रवेश गर्न “अनुमति निगाहा” भएको जानकारी पाएपछि बलबहादुर गेट भित्र पस्यो ।

त्यत्रो अजंग र भव्य दरवार उसले कहिलै देखेको थिएन । एकातर्फतरवारका चमकिला धारहरुका ताती एकापट्टी र अर्कोतर्फआधुनिक हतियार बन्दुक, एल.यम.जी., जि.पि.एम.जी. र रकेट मोटारहरु लस्करै सजाइएको थियो । ऊ एकतमाससँग हेरी रहेको थियो यत्तिकैमा अटाली माथीबाट रवाफका साथ आवाज आयो । “ए बले किन आईस यहाँ” । बलबहादुर खङग्रङ्ग तस्र्यो । तक्षण बलबहादुरले आफू त्यहाँ किन आएको थियो भन्ने कुरा विर्सियो र हतार हतार विन्ति चढायो -“मौसुफको पाऊमा दर्शन गर्न महाराज !” बलबहादुरको जीऊ एक्कासी चीसो भयो ।

Sad – Cristina Geanta

sad for all the time my embrace was empty of you
sad for being stubborn to be sad
sad for touching objects baring your presence
sad for not touching you…

sad for re adi ng your name everywhere i turn
sad for all the blue jackets other men should not have worn
sad for all my weak spots left to be weak
sad to open my eyes in the morning

sad for a cruel truth not even dreams can survive
sad without dreaming
sad of nothing to hope for
sad for still seing beautiful things worth for you to know

sad…
just what she is not

Sad In Blue (A Lyric) – Peter S. Quinn

Sad sad sad in blue
For sad sad sad you
The moon is all bluish tonight
The night is all dark out side
Nowhere to run
Sad sad sad in blue

Into the night hold me tight
Love me babe I need some light
What’s wrong and what’s right
When shadows dwell and abide

Sad sad sad in blue
For sad sad sad you
The moon is all bluish tonight
Is there some star shoot in sight
To wish upon
For sad sad sad you

Into the night take a flight
Feelings, touch, everything out sight
Love me with feelings ok
Come come babe now closer stay

Sad sad sad in blue
For sad sad sad you
The moon is all bluish tonight
Is there some star shoot in sight
To wish upon
For sad sad sad you

Sad And Lonely – Taher Shemaly

As I started sipping
my daily lovely coffee
A race of memories just began in my mind
of old days, the hard and the easy
And looking at myself now with a tear in my eye
just to find myself sad and lonely

And as I walk down that antique street
where my old little house was meant to be
It feels hard to breathe just to know
that I am out of it now and maybe
maybe forever I would be like a rover
that tells stories of how sad I am and lonely

Those stairs I used to go up and down
everyday in fast rhythm used to be happy
In my room I used to stay most of the time
never thought that i would live in a tragedy
But words are not useful now
for sad I am and lonely

Though poverty was my company long ago
but riches couldn’t bring back honey
The honey I saw in my sweet old days
Days of the poverty and agony
Believe me my friend riches won’t give you a thing
But to make you sad and lonely

Mirror – Victor Osorio

Would you trade places?
To live my life
To be me
To feel my pain
Would you ignore a friend?
Move on in life
Pretend not to know
Would you not enjoy music?
Knowing that you love it
But, not wanting to listen
Would you talk to me?
Knowing that I’m a loser
Knowing that I’m ugly
Knowing that I’m a nice guy
Would you take your own life?
Would you finally do it?
Would you start over?
Not knowing how
Stop staring at me
I’ll go away from the mirror now.

Family I Love – Kristina Riggs

love my family with my hold heart.
My love is Joy to love my family
Family is sad and happy and love.
Family is fun and painful and pretty.
My family is like all families we have
love and we have happiness and tears
I love my hold family
My family is like angels who fly in sky
I am grateful that I have family that loves
me.
My family are kind and nice and fun to be
around
My family is painful like all familys are and
heart breaking and Evil sometimes
My family is heart breaking and deadly like
everyone else
Hey I can’t stop loving my family not matter what
it coats in the family.
Way my family is just makes me want have family
with someone be as good as they are.
But God know I love my family
and our love is great to have in life
and even know they leave he world they still
a live in my hearts.

A Dance – Jolanta Gradowicz

Could I ask you to dance, madam?
Let’s go to dance to this music.
You mustn’t be a lonely woman
When everything is so rhythmic.

Why do you lower your eyes?
Why do you blush and tremble?
I see disbelief on your face…
Your touch is timid and gentle.

I feel your heart beat like a bell.
You speed up though music is slow.
What happened, my dear dancer?
Is there a trouble or sorrow?

I ask you, but you keep silent.
I give a tighter hug to you.
What a dance! I love this movement.
I dream it will begin anew…

Dance Of Life – David Harris

Sometimes we do the rumba,
a foxtrot or a jive,
as we dance through our life,
each and every day.

We dance and we dance,
each day through.
Everyday to a different tune,
just to get us through.

In all our loving moments,
we waltz through life,
and in those complicated moments,
we will twist the whole night through.

For everything we do,
there is a dance to get us through.
For every day,
we dance our life away.

Slow Dance – Louise Brown

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won’t last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You’d better slow down
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won’t last.
Ever told your child,
We’ll
do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say, ‘Hi’
You’d better slow down.
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won’t last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift….
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the
music
Before the song is over.

Dance Of Romance – Trade Martin

Is the Dance Of Romance….,
Sometimes you’re not sure….,
But you must take the chance….,
For it may last forever….,
The Dance Of Romance….! ! !

Can you remember…..,
When you could not conceal….,
The passion, the emotion….,
That you would feel….? ? ?
It’s a wondrous state of mind….,
Only time can enhance…..,
Of course that’s only…..,
If you discover love is real….! ! !

The Dance Of Romance….,
The beautiful Dance Of Romance….! ! !

Dance – Mia Ocean

I’m thinking hard,
But my mind should be empty.
I practice the movements,
But they come out all wrong.
When I stop,
And think,
I concentrate,
On one thing,
Dance.
And I dance.
And it’s graceful,
When you think.
Be passionate
With your movements,
Listen to the song,
The beats,
the rhythyms,
And flow.
And dance.

Dance.
Smile.
Be.

Home – John Le Gay Brereton

“Where shall we dwell?” say you.
Wandering winds reply:
“In a temple with roof of blue
— Under the splendid sky.”

Never a nobler home
We’ll find though an age we try
Than is arched by the azure dome
Of the all-enfolding sky.

Here we are wed, and here
We live under God’s own eye.
“Where shall we dwell,” my dear?
Under the splendid sky.

Nursing Home Blues – Angelo Ventresco

Oh how I miss those walks in the park,
where birds would sing and dogs did bark.
Nuts for the pigeons and some for the squiriels,
swan boats dfift by leaving watery swirls.
Happy laughter of children floated by as on wings,
playing with friends and soaring on swings.
People walked by, some nodded or smiled,
young folk gave agreeting, others chatted awhile.
Remembering all this fills me with joy.
Now it’s, here take your pills, oh that’s a good boy.

Lines Written From Home – Anne Brontë

Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground
With fallen leaves so thickly strown,
And cold the wind that wanders round
With wild and melancholy moan;
There is a friendly roof, I know,
Might shield me from the wintry blast;
There is a fire, whose ruddy glow
Will cheer me for my wanderings past.

And so, though still, where’er I go,
Cold stranger-glances meet my eye;
Though, when my spirit sinks in woe,
Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh;

Though solitude, endured too long,
Bids youthful joys too soon decay,
Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue,
And overclouds my noon of day;

When kindly thoughts, that would have way,
Flow back discouraged to my breast; —
I know there is, though far away,
A home where heart and soul may rest.

Warm hands are there, that, clasped in mine,
The warmer heart will not belie;
While mirth, and truth, and friendship shine
In smiling lip and earnest eye.

The ice that gathers round my heart
May there be thawed; and sweetly, then,
The joys of youth, that now depart,
Will come to cheer my soul again.

Though far I roam, that thought shall be
My hope, my comfort, everywhere;
While such a home remains to me,
My heart shall never know despair!

To Friends At Home – Robert Louis Stevenson

TO friends at home, the lone, the admired, the lost
The gracious old, the lovely young, to May
The fair, December the beloved,
These from my blue horizon and green isles,
These from this pinnacle of distances I,
The unforgettable, dedicate.

Almost Home – Sandra Fowler

Remembering a Valentine sent to me by a poet from India,1989
You meet the moment with your solace thought.
Your fingers sketch a gray house far away.
Its window lights are warming cool resolve.
I think and know that we are almost home.

They tell me that a red bird has no soul
And yet I choose it for my metaphor.
Its spirit skims above half-frozen roads.
One hand is clapping for the death

With beautiful precision how your words
Eliminate each snowflake from my mind.
Yes, I accept your red bird valentine
Praising the strength that thought it over seas.

Travel – Edna St. Vincent Millay

The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn’t a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make,
And better friends I’ll not be knowing;
Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,
No matter where it’s going.

The Joy Of Travel – Marilyn Lott

What a thrill it is to travel
Perhaps in a different country
The cultures incredibly diverse
So many wonderful things to see

The clothes can be so different
Unique in their treasured styles
An entirely distinctive kind of people
With their friendly happy smiles

And the food can be quite challenging
Different tastes and how they eat
But, hey, I’m ready to try it
Doesn’t have to be potatoes and meat

Different ways and thoughts of worship
It is such an international treat
To see the different cultures
And all the interesting folks you meet

So if you get a chance, folks
Get on a plane or cruising ship
Take yourself to another country
Have a great and wonderful trip!

Heaven – Rupert Brooke

Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat’ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything Beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
For how unpleasant, if it were!
One may not doubt that, somehow, Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And, sure, the reverent eye must see
A Purpose in Liquidity.
We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
The future is not Wholly Dry.
Mud unto mud! — Death eddies near —
Not here the appointed End, not here!
But somewhere, beyond Space and Time.
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
Who swam ere rivers were begun,
Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.
Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;
Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.
And in that Heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish.

A Gift From Heaven – Alison Smith

They were created with perfection
But arrived before well baked
Sent to show the way
Searchers of another day
Nestled in our hearts
Never to be forgotten
Drawn now into dream
Revel in the knowing
The angels of adventure.

Arrived as a calm against the storm
Opening the changes around
They escaped this reality
Leaving a message of trust
Treat the coming for what it is
And explore the dream
For they where a gift from heaven

Simple the delight they gave
Melting the hearts around
Into sleep now taken
These tiny infants of the dream
They herald the changes within.

In Heaven – Stephen Crane

In heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
“What did you do?”
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind,
Ashamed.
Presently, God said,
“And what did you do?”
The little blade answered, “Oh my Lord,
Memory is bitter to me,
For, if I did good deeds,
I know not of them.”
Then God, in all His splendor,
Arose from His throne.
“Oh, best little blade of grass!” He said.

Heaven-Haven – Gerard Manley Hopkins

I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail,
And a few lilies blow.

And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.

Promise Together – Kanako Izumkui

you have my heart and i have yours
i dream about you and you dream about me too.

promise me will stay together
promise me will be together forever.

tell me that you love me
tell me that you need me

but most of all promise me.

promise me will always be together.

lets always be together forever

i need you and i think you need me too.

we love eachother while we care for one another

so promise me will always be together

Together – Kelly Vinal

When I see the world, for you
When you became the world to me
A rainbow arched beyond the storms
To green pastures of destiny
Where our paths converge
As if God Himself determined
That this was the time
That we had walked enough alone
On those sad and winding roads
When I see the world, for you
By you, this is now a beautiful place
In the sun that parts the darkened clouds
In the presence of His grace
Your hand in my hand, together
We face the uncharted horizon
Of hope, of promise, of love
That God’s gift of time is ours to share
As we walk by the calm and shimmering sea
Down the glorious road now set before us
Onward to eternity

We May Live Together – Anne Bradstreet

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov’d by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

The Life And Death Of A Cigarette – Margaret Baker

If you smoke fourty cigarettes a day.
You won’t feel life ebb away.
But slow and sure the signs are there
Brittle nails and greying hair
Don’t make out, you do not care,
About wether it’s right or wether it’s fair.
The wrinkles sallow looks of age,
Which grow quickly for a weekly wage.
Your lung in pieces rotted away
The pain the hurt and the decay.
All this to be macho fan Looking
Good, but feeling wan. Then your
Dead, here no more rotten to
the inner core. To late to tell
Them what they’ve done. You have
Lost. The cigarettes have won.

The Life Of My Life – Mihaela Pirjol

Life had come into my life
And furtively, had taken away
The luminous stars from my eyes,
And the imagination of my mind,
The innocent dreams of my heart
And threw them away, with all my hope,
In a deserted terrain of my being;

And I found myself bereft of my being:
In the repetitive circle of routine,
In a vapid mundane reality
That deprives me of my existence;
Saturating itself at the core of whatever
Might have become of my life.

That Life This Life – Akhtar Jawad

The lost boyhood and the lost teen age,
Roaming on a bicycle in a small town,
That wasn’t completely electrified,
Windy evenings of summer vacation,
Standing at a cigarette and beetle shop,
Greedy of watching pretty teen aged girls,
Engaged in shopping and sometimes having a look,
On the boys’ penetrating eyes,
Smiling slightly and turning their backs,
Towards the Romeos, even more pleased,
To have a nicer view of turning beauties,
Difficult to decide whether a girl in a particular age,
Appears more beautiful from the front or from the rear,
Coming back home satisfied, content and peaceful,
Sleeping below the open sky, starring at the moon,
Guessing the time with the help of stars,
The inviting heavy eye lids to a land of dreams,
Whereat those girls with fairy wings,
With guitars in their hands and semitransparent milky dress,
Singing, dancing the song of future,
A future that is yet a dream of the world,
Used to come in the bluish dreams,
Interrupted by a sudden downpour,
Quickly removing the bed to verandah,
To enjoy a truly wet cloudy night,
What a life it was!
Could it come back! !

Awaking in a bedroom and watching the ceiling fan,
Appearing as enemy’s bomber in a blue zero power bulb,
Reminding the threats of growing weapons,
Reminding the threats of a nuclear war,
Reminding the threats of growing population,
Reminding the threats of scarcity of water,
Reminding the threats of shortage of energy,
Reminding the threats of shortage of resources,
Where has gone the taste of vegetables,
Grown with the help of natural fertilizers,
Where has gone tolerance of religions we believe,
Why cruel nationalism has infected the loving human heart,
Thanks to the man in the mosque who’s calling,
Getup old man and wash your dirty body,
Proceed to the mosque and try to clean,
The poisoned brain, the seat of your soul!
What a life that was!
What a life is it! !

poem – my love

When i see you my heart goees boom boom,
When we get together its like everyone else left the room,
You say that i aint going nowhere,
i think this time you realy care,
soon enough we will see,
if your realy down for me,
or if its just not ment to be,
i fell for you soo fast,
i just hope it will last,
i dont want to lose you,
i hope you feel that way too,
were going to have our ups and downs,
but im going to stick around,
becuase your my hubbie,
and I just need to see,
that your the one I love,
and i mean every word above.

The World – John Newton

See, the world for youth prepares,
Harlot-like, her gaudy snares!
Pleasures round her seem to wait,
But ’tis all a painted cheat.

Rash and unsuspecting youth
Thinks to find thee always smooth,
Always kind, till better taught,
By experience dearly bought.

So the calm, but faithless sea
(Lively emblem, world, of thee)
Tempts the shepherd from the shore
Foreign regions to explore.

While no wrinkled wave is seen,
While the sky remains serene,
Fill’d with hopes, and golden schemes
Of a storm he little dreams.

But ere long the tempest raves,
Then he trembles at the waves;
Wishes then he had been wise,
But too late—he sinks and dies.

Hapless thus, are they, vain world,
Soon on rocks of ruin hurl’d,
Who admiring thee, untry’d,
Court thy pleasure. wealth, or pride.

Such a shipwreck had been mine,
Had not Jesus (name divine!)
Sav’d me with a mighty hand,
And restor’d my soul to land.

Now, with gratitude I raise
Ebenezers to his praise;
Now my rash pursuits are o’er,
I can trust thee, world, no more.

Patrakar – Shrawan Mukarung

तिमी छक्क पर्छौ
कि,
तिमीजस्तै ऊ
कुनै होचो घरको मझेरी
बलेँसी, पँधेरी, जङ्गल
अँध्यारो छिँडी
साँघुरो गोठ
या,
अस्पतालको कुनै बेड वा परिसरमा
आफ्नै आमाको कोखबाट
उसको जन्म भएको हुन्छ

तिमी अझ छक्क पर्छौ
कि,
तिमीजस्तै–
पहाडको कुनै अपरिचित गाउँको धूलो
या,
भित्री मधेसको
कुनै टोल, खेत, इनार
आँपको फेद, राजमार्गको छेउ
अथवा–
सहरको कुनै गल्ली, डबली
वा पिच रोडहरूमा
दगुर्दादगुर्दै ऊ हुर्किएको हुन्छ

उसलाई देखेपछि
तिमी झन् तीन छक पर्छौ
तिम्रा जस्तै–
उसका आँखा, मुस्कान
र गहिरो आत्मविश्वास…

अहा !
उसलाई भेटेपछि त झन्
तिमी छक्क पर्नुको कुनै सीमा नै रहँदैन–
‘के पत्रकार आफैँमा एक मानिस हो…?!’

घाम
एकदम सीधा
तिम्रो सिउँदोमाथि मस्त छ
तिमीलाई आज, आकाश हेर्नु छैन
तिमी
एकदम उसलाई हेरिरहेछौ एकटकले
हेर्दाहेर्दै–
उसका बलिष्ठ पाखुराहरू
फैलिरहेछन्– घडीफूलको लहरा भएर
र तिम्रो मुटु र मस्तिष्कको गोलो पृथिवीलाई
कस्दै छ बेस्सरी !

तिमीलाई थाहा छैन–
प्रजातन्त्र र पत्रकार
कुन माउ, कुन चल्ला ?
तर, तिमीलाई थाहा छ
आफू उभिएको भूमि
सुन !
जिउँदो देशमा
पत्रकारको प्रायः हत्या हुन्छ
र उसको उद्दीप्त अनुहार
कुनै आतङ्कारीको बूढो बन्दुकको दवासमा
सविस्तार अवतरित हुन्छ

तब,
तिमी छक्क पर्दै पर्दैनौ
किनकि–
तिम्रो सिउँदोको सिन्दूर
लोकगीत भइसकेको हुन्छ !

Prem Geet – Shrawan Mukarung

अब म तिमीलाई यहीँ छोडेर जान्छु !
यी जन्तीजस्ता पर्वत
चराको माला
बुकी र बतास
यी सनईजस्ता भन्ज्याङ
लोकन्ता खोला
गोधूलि र मौनता
यी मान्छेका आदिम र आधुनिक दुःखहरू
कसैलाई थाहा हुनेछैन ।

अब म तिमीलाई यहीँ छोडेर जान्छु !

मलाई खोज्दाखोज्दै
कुनै प्रिय दिन तिमी मर्नेछौ
कुनै इतिहास बन्नेछैन – त्यो
मृत्युपर्यन्त पनि भेट्नेछैनौ मलाई
कुनै युग
कुनै काल
कुनै जन्म
मेरो मन फर्किनेछैन – कहिल्यै ।
पगली !
अब म तिमीलाई यहीँ छोडेर जान्छु !
यहीँ
बस यहीँ
यो तिम्रो सिउँदोमा बजिरहेको मेरो आलो रगतको बाँसुरीमा ।

Passive Weather – Ramesh Rai

The sun is annoyed with the earth
that so he is not seen throughout
but aroma of his arrival
spreaded throughout the earth
Air is not humming to – day
stopped mesmerizing the flowers
so, flowers are sad too
not sympathetic with bees even
to sip her nectar today
to view the piteous scene of earth
sky also weeps with drizzling tears
an unforeseen silence stirs the nature
making me bore except
to lean and chat with my poetry.

Weather Wise – Fay Slimm

From murky
overcast sky
rife with heavily
laden cold
comes out of nowhere
brightness.

The warm sun’s face
pushes holes
through
to reveal cornflower blue
circles of bloom,
bouqueting
the day

Smiles begin
undoing furrowed brows
and start
breaking frowns in two,
increasingly.

From nowhere folk want
to hello
and tension
shows a release.

Murky weather moods
have to go.

Gray Weather – Robinson Jeffers

It is true that, older than man and ages to outlast him, the Pacific surf
Still cheerfully pounds the worn granite drum;
But there’s no storm; and the birds are still, no song; no kind of excess;
Nothing that shines, nothing is dark;
There; is neither joy nor grief nor a person, the sun’s tooth
sheathed in cloud,
And life has no more desires than a stone.
The stormy conditions of time and change are all abrogated, the essential
Violences of survival, pleasure,
Love, wrath and pain, and the curious desire of knowing, all perfectly
suspended.
In the cloudy light, in the timeless quietness,
One explores deeper than the nerves or heart of nature, the womb or soul,
To the bone, the careless white bone, the excellence.

A Mother’s Fear – Theresa Ann Moore

A mother worries about the choices that her son may make.
She knows she has let him make decisions for his own sake.
As sirens scream, a mother sits in darkness choking back tears.
She prays that her boy is safe and calms her doubting fears.

At half past two, beams from headlights flood the driveway.
Relieved that he is home, she tiptoes to her bedroom right away.
She hears an urgent knocking and goes to turn on the porch light.
Patiently waiting at the door is a police officer; he is a somber sight.

Fear – Ciaran Carson

I fear the vast dimensions of eternity.
I fear the gap between the platform and the train.
I fear the onset of a murderous campaign.
1 fear the palpitations caused by too much tea.

I fear the drawn pistol of a rapparee.
I fear the books will not survive the acid rain.
I fear the ruler and the blackboard and the cane.
I fear the Jabberwock, whatever it might be.

I fear the bad decisions of a referee.
I fear the only recourse is to plead insane.
I fear the implications of a lawyer’s fee.

I fear the gremlins that have colonized my brain.
I fear to read the small print of the guarantee.
And what else do I fear? Let me begin again.

Fear Of Love – Misty Lacobucci

Fear of Love

Have you ever loved someone so much that fear takes control of every emotions.
Fear of loving.
Fear of losing that felling of floating on air.
Fear of one day hearing the words…goodbye…
How can love & fear be twisted in one so that you can’t even tell them apart.
Maybe, loving means risking everything for that one person who makes you feel larger then life.

I feel that with you, fear.
Fear of feelings I promised myself I would not feel again.
Fear of giving myself to be hurt again.
Fear of saying goodbye and never loving again.

Where do I go from here?
Do I let my fear of not being enough drive me away?
Do I let go now and let fear win?
Do I hold on and allow fear to drive you away?
Or do I hold on and shut fear out and know that real love will win?

Whatever path our love leads us down one thing I know is true.
Your love had made me realize what it is to love so much that fear takes control.
Whether that is good or bad remains to be seen.

Love knows no time, no place, and no fear.
We do that on our own.
We try to reason something, love, that had no reasoning about it.

Always from a far I saw you.
Until one day you were there with warmth in you face I could not refuse.
Now you are the man I dream of.
A fear I never expected when I looked at you.
A love that lit like a candle in a dark still room.
In one flash you lighted my heart with warmth and fear.

I do not know if fear of losing you will win.
Or if I have the strength to hold on and wait for our love to flourish into a lifetime of security and happiness.
The one thing I do know is that my fear of losing you is my heart admitting that there is a part of you I hold dear.
And that is the love I feel for you growing each day.

Poem – Solitude

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield shade,
In winter, fire.

Blest, who can unconcern’dly find
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixed; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

Romance Is Dead – April Avalon

A glass of cheap vodka tastes just like depression –
It hurts to be sober tonight.
The mirror reflects such a hideous expression
That I promptly turn off the light.
Some porno, then casual sex with my hand…
Oh damn! This is something I shouldn’t have said.
Why don’t you believe that I need no boyfriend –
No problems, no worries, no tears, no regret?

Romance is dead,
And so am I,
I can’t forget
My perfect lie.
I still recall
The times we had.
Oh well, that’s all.
Romance is dead.

I can’t fall asleep, so I get on the net,
Where I claim to be an online super-wh-,
I find guys like you just to make them all fret,
My tease makes them want me, but they can’t get more
Than flirt for some minutes, some sexual tension
And then disconnect. Their muse disappears.
I’ve had a good time with these cruel intentions –
Enough for today. See you later, my dear.

Romance is dead,
And so am I,
I can’t forget
My perfect lie.
I still recall
The times we had.
Oh well, that’s all.
Romance is dead.
Romance is dead!

You say it is stupid, it doesn’t make sense,
But you are the first to have buried romance.

Our Romance – Lamar Cole

Our romance is like the sun gleaming.
The moon beaming.
Our romance is like the stars shining so bright.
All through the heavenly night.

Our romance is like violins playing.
Sunny days staying.
Our romance is like birds singing.
Bells ringing.

Our romance is like rivers flowing.
Flowers growing.
Our romance is like a cool wind.
Love that never ends.

A Stolen Kiss – Ray Lucero

‘Twas Spring in a desert town
Chill was in the evening air
Desert land bare and brown
I’d longed to see my lady fair
Dressed all in black
She tapped softly at my door
She still possessed a knack
To shake me to my core

Dinner for two at some quiet place
Where time once more stood still
Rekindled love set hearts to race
Life held no greater thrill

We shook hands, said good bye
I chanced “A Stolen Kiss”
Then gone the magic moment
of our romantic bliss…

The Kiss – ArmourQuill Hunter

What’s in a kiss; how many there-be…?
‘So many, it boggles the mind’s reality…’
A kiss can be a greeting- “of body and soul-! ‘
It’s an unspoken language, telling more than “what’s told.”
It is sometimes “a spark-, ” to light one’s flame…
Or often “self-flattery” to play one’s game.

There’s the ‘kiss of friendship-, ‘
The ‘kiss of guile…, ‘
The ‘kiss of SINCERITY, ‘
The ‘kiss of style…, ‘
There’s the ‘kiss of Life” and the ‘kiss of Death! ‘
There’s the ‘kiss that steals one’s breath away…”
And one “that prays it will last all day! ”
There’s the ‘kiss that frees the soul…’
Also one that ‘detours from one’s goal…! ‘
There’s the kiss of a parent, the “kiss of a child…, ”
The “kiss of curiosity- running wild…! ”
The kiss of respect; and a kiss of shame…,
A kiss of honor- and “a kiss to tame…! ”
There’s a kiss of the reserved-, “perceived amorous- (the same): ”
A kiss of ‘the insecure-, ‘ to win their ball game!
There’s a ‘kiss of the stagnant; ‘ the ‘kiss of the free…! ”
Also a ‘kiss of those secure-, ” as the best there can be…

Yet what’s in a kiss-, that’s the question still…?
Maybe, it’s how we perceive it to be-,
A reflection of “our state-of-mind…! ”
But; there’s the kiss of harmony…
A kiss that divides…
A kiss that is honest…
And a kiss that hides….
There’s a kiss of the clever…
A kiss of the mundane…
There’s “a kiss like a symphony-, ” with rapturous refrain…!
There’s a plane where “Mercy and Truth meet intimately in bliss; ”
In the plumbline-address, where “Righteousness and Peace kiss! ”
Yet ‘still-in-all-, ‘ maybe the question should be-,
Not ‘what’s in a kiss” but “what’s in the Kisser, ‘ you see…

Kiss Me – Ernestine Northover

Kiss me and make it seem better,
Kiss me and quiet my heart,
I never once asked for a letter,
Stating you wanted to part.

Kiss me and declare you were wrong dear,
Kiss me and confirm it’s okay,
Say all those things that I so want to hear,
And wipe all my tears away.

Kiss me and let’s stay together,
Kiss me and pour out the wine,
Sit with me on my sofa of leather,
And say that everything will be fine.

Kiss me and tell me you love me,
Kiss me with passion to spare,
Don’t think of leaving, that is my plea
And also my ardent prayer.

Kiss me, I need you so deeply,
Kiss me, what more can I say,
But with reality looming before me,
This dream has just melted away.

Poem – A Song

Sitting at His table one day,
God and the devil a game did play;
Hated humanity was at stake;
Well, the first picked Bonaparte;
The other drew, and for his part,
‘Twas Mastai that he did take.

Impoverished abbey, thin as a sprite!
Petty prince, small and filled with spite,
Truly a thoughtless brat!
Oh what a worthless pot!
‘Twas God that had the losing lot
So the devil won them both at that.

God the Father cried, ‘Take them you!
You will not know what to do
With them’; the devil laughed; ‘Good sir-
That’s where you’re wrong,’ the devil said,
And of the one a pope he made,
And of the other an emperor.

Poem – June Nights

In summer, when day has fled, the plain covered with flowers
Pours out far away an intoxicating scent;
Eyes shut, ears half open to noises,
We only half sleep in a transparent slumber.

The stars are purer, the shade seems pleasanter;
A hazy half-day colours the eternal dome;
And the sweet pale dawn awaiting her hour
Seems to wander all night at the bottom of the sky.

Poem – Luna

O France, although you sleep
We call you, we the forbidden!
The shadows have ears,
And the depths have cries.

Bitter, glory-less despotism
Over a discouraged people
Closes a black thick grate
Of error and prejudice;

It locks up the loyal swarm
Of firm thinkers, of heroes,
But the Idea with the flap of a wing
Will part the heavy bars,

And, as in ninety-one,
Will retake sovereign flight,
For breaking apart a cage of bronze
Is easy for bronze bird.

Darkness covers the world,
But the Idea illuminates and shines;
With its white brightness it floods
The dark blues of the night.

It is the solitary lantern,
The providential ray;
It is the lamp of the earth
That cannot help but light the sky.

It calms the suffering soul,
Guides life, puts the dead to rest;
It shows the mean the gulf,
It shows the just the way.

In seeing in the dark mist
The Idea, love of sad eyes,
Rise calm, serene and pure,
On the mysterious horizon,

Fanaticism and hatred
Roar before each threshhold,
As obscene hounds howl
When appears the moon in mourning.

Oh! Think of the mighty Idea,
Nations! its superhuman brow
Has upon it, from now on, the light
That will show the way to tomorrow!

Poem – Letter

You can see it already: chalks and ochers;
Country crossed with a thousand furrow-lines;
Ground-level rooftops hidden by the shrubbery;
Sporadic haystacks standing on the grass;
Smoky old rooftops tarnishing the landscape;
A river (not Cayster or Ganges, though:
A feeble Norman salt-infested watercourse);
On the right, to the north, bizarre terrain
All angular–you’d think a shovel did it.
So that’s the foreground. An old chapel adds
Its antique spire, and gathers alongside it
A few gnarled elms with grumpy silhouettes;
Seemingly tired of all the frisky breezes,
They carp at every gust that stirs them up.
At one side of my house a big wheelbarrow
Is rusting; and before me lies the vast
Horizon, all its notches filled with ocean blue;
Cocks and hens spread their gildings, and converse
Beneath my window; and the rooftop attics,
Now and then, toss me songs in dialect.
In my lane dwells a patriarchal rope-maker;
The old man makes his wheel run loud, and goes
Retrograde, hemp wreathed tightly round the midriff.
I like these waters where the wild gale scuds;
All day the country tempts me to go strolling;
The little village urchins, book in hand,
Envy me, at the schoolmaster’s (my lodging),
As a big schoolboy sneaking a day off.
The air is pure, the sky smiles; there’s a constant
Soft noise of children spelling things aloud.
The waters flow; a linnet flies; and I say: “Thank you!
Thank you, Almighty God!”–So, then, I live:
Peacefully, hour by hour, with little fuss, I shed
My days, and think of you, my lady fair!
I hear the children chattering; and I see, at times,
Sailing across the high seas in its pride,
Over the gables of the tranquil village,
Some winged ship which is traveling far away,
Flying across the ocean, hounded by all the winds.
Lately it slept in port beside the quay.
Nothing has kept it from the jealous sea-surge:
No tears of relatives, nor fears of wives,
Nor reefs dimly reflected in the waters,
Nor importunity of sinister birds.

Poem – A Sunset

I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens,
In numerous leafage bosomed close;
Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer,
Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere
On cloudy archipelagos.

Oh, gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds’ commotion,
Their unimagined shapes accord:
Under their waves at intervals flame a pale levin through,
As if some giant of the air amid the vapors drew
A sudden elemental sword.

The sun at bay with splendid thrusts still keeps the sullen fold;
And momently at distance sets, as a cupola of gold,
The thatched roof of a cot a-glance;
Or on the blurred horizon joins his battle with the haze;
Or pools the blooming fields about with inter-isolate blaze,
Great moveless meres of radiance.

Then mark you how there hangs athwart the firmament’s swept track,
Yonder a mighty crocodile with vast irradiant back,
A triple row of pointed teeth?
Under its burnished belly slips a ray of eventide,
The flickerings of a hundred glowing clouds in tenebrous side
With scales of golden mail ensheathe.

Then mounts a palace, then the air vibrates–the vision flees.
Confounded to its base, the fearful cloudy edifice
Ruins immense in mounded wrack;
Afar the fragments strew the sky, and each envermeiled cone
Hangeth, peak downward, overhead, like mountains overthrown
When the earthquake heaves its hugy back.

These vapors, with their leaden, golden, iron, bronzèd glows,
Where the hurricane, the waterspout, thunder, and hell repose,
Muttering hoarse dreams of destined harms,–
‘Tis God who hangs their multitude amid the skiey deep,
As a warrior that suspendeth from the roof-tree of his keep
His dreadful and resounding arms!

All vanishes! The Sun, from topmost heaven precipitated,
Like a globe of iron which is tossed back fiery red
Into the furnace stirred to fume,
Shocking the cloudy surges, plashed from its impetuous ire,
Even to the zenith spattereth in a flecking scud of fire
The vaporous and inflamèd spaume.

O contemplate the heavens! Whenas the vein-drawn day dies pale,
In every season, every place, gaze through their every veil?
With love that has not speech for need!
Beneath their solemn beauty is a mystery infinite:
If winter hue them like a pall, or if the summer night
Fantasy them starre brede.

The First Kiss – Norman Rowland Gale

On Helen’s heart the day were night!
But I may not adventure there:
Here breast is guarded by a right,
And she is true as fair.

And though in happy days her eyes
The glow within mine own could please,
She’s purer than the babe who cries
For empire on her knees.

Her love is for her lord and child,
And unto them belongs her snow;
But none can rob me of her wild
Young kiss of long ago!

Your Kiss – Lora Seger

Your kiss, so sweet, so tender.
Your kiss that makes my heart swell.
Your kiss that drives me into unknown passion.
Your kiss that makes my stomach flutter.
Your kiss that makes me know I’m loved by you.
Your kiss that is unhesitant to be bestowed upon me.
Your kiss that sends me into a poetic bliss.

A Kiss – Samantha Williams

A kiss, simple though it seems!
A kiss, it is the stuff of dreams!
A kiss, contains the beauty of the world!
A kiss, can break the heart of this girl!
A kiss, is like an angel from above!
A kiss, can show all of my love!
A kiss, when it’s from him is heaven!
A kiss, is that how it all begins?
A kiss, nothing could be more true!
A kiss, is perfect coming from you!

Death Of A Marriage – C.J. Heck

I’ve given it my best.
The years frown back
from the mirror
to show me just how long,
until at last
I have to concede finality.
It’s over,
and I was the last
to know.

In spite of the realization,
it still hurts.
I’m told feelings are
hardest to let go of,
I suppose because
we’ve worn them
for so long.

Yet everyone knows
nothing is all bad.

The good was good,
but when the bad stretches
arrive more often,
stay longer
and hurt twice as much,
I finally see
the only time I’m happy
is when I’m alone.

The bad overshadows
anything good
and I see things
for what they really are.

Today, I stood in the yard
with my arms outstretched.
I had to see if he began
where my fingers ended,
– the way he used to,
but there was nothing there,
only air.

Then I checked my arms.
There must be needle tracks …
hell, he was like
an addiction,
but there were none.

When did the wrongs become
a way of life?
Apologies can no longer reboot trust
and there’s no going back.
In sad resignation
I’ve discovered I’m out of
last chances to give.

Feelings truly are
the hardest to let go of
and it really is
because we have a past,
and I ache knowing
there can be no future.

Nonetheless, I hate losing.
I loathe having failed at something
I’ve poured so much of me into
for so long …
but you just know,
and there in the
midst of the knowing
lies the death of a marriage.

Marriage – Mathilde Blind

LOVE springs as lightly from the human heart
As springs the lovely rose upon the brier,
Which turns the common hedge to floral fire,
As Love wings Time with rosy-feathered dart.
But marriage is the subtlest work of art
Of all the arts which lift the spirit higher;
The incarnation of the heart’s desire–
Which masters Time–set on Man’s will apart.

The Many try, but oh! how few are they
To whom that finest of the arts is given
Which shall teach Love, the rosy runaway,
To bide from bridal Morn to brooding Even.
Yet this–this only–is the narrow way
By which, while yet on earth, we enter heaven.

Marriage – Ravi Sathasivam

Marriage is a fulfillment of dreams
It is an oath of life between two loving partners
It is the most beautiful thing that can happen in your life
It is a feeling to be cherished, nurtured and care for
It is promise today for tomorrow together
It is bond to hold each other when love bloom
It is caring each other life time
It is an understanding between two hearts
It is willingness to step forward without being afraid
It is sharing, forgiving and compassion
It is mysterious but ask you to share the secrets
Trust each other and the journey of marriage will lead
in to a great love forever.

Summer Romance – Sofia Darling

The sky melted into summer,
when i met you with your friend
and you were like no other
so we met up again.
Inseperable after a week,
and the memories we shared
like when you kissed me on the cheek
and whispered that you cared.
A summer in the wood
making passion under stars
i never knew you could
make me love you so so hard.
While summer slips away
and winter’s seeping through
our romance on last days
next Summer i wait for you.

Romance In The Sun – Joyce Hemsley

Feminine…the ‘dreamy’ kind
every man adores her,
beautiful in summer sun
when Mr. Romance calls her.

He sings nostalgic melodies
introduced discreetly,
mellow notes to melt the heart
Bliss, when rendered sweetly.

He sends white lilies to her room
to celebrate each new occasion;
her boudoir’s filled with fresh perfume
and sensuous adoration.

Golden rings upon her finger
give hope of many years to come
and unforgettable memories linger
of romance in the summer sun.

A Friend – Charles Chaim Wax

I got a call yesterday
About Gloria,74 years old,
From her sister,69, a smoker all her life
Plus drank a fifth of rum,
Everyone thought she
Would go first
But cancer demolished Gloria through and through.
Lucy and Lorenzo said I should send flowers
For fifty dollars
Such kind children
Instead
I sent a Mass Card for five because
How does the inside of a coffin breathe.

A Blind Friend – David Darbyshire

I have a blind Friend
He’s called Ronny
Ron’s very Clever
We play Backgammon
Together, amongst
Other things
But I am Worried!
Every time I say Goodbye
I say: ‘See ya Later’, Ron
Some how I do not Think,
These are the ‘right’ words?
Maybe something Like,
I’ll Smell you later or,
I’ll Feel, Taste or Touch you Later
I should work on My
Communication Skills!

The Friend – Marge Piercy

We sat across the table.
he said, cut off your hands.
they are always poking at things.
they might touch me.
I said yes.

Food grew cold on the table.
he said, burn your body.
it is not clean and smells like sex.
it rubs my mind sore.
I said yes.

I love you, I said.
That’s very nice, he said
I like to be loved,
that makes me happy.
Have you cut off your hands yet?